


Ready to Go

by jewboykahl



Series: Heartbeat [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: Stan's conflicted feelings for his best friend interfere with his ability to think straight. On a boring night he decides to spend with Kenny, they both relish in their unique friendship and what it means to them.part 1/2
Relationships: Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick
Series: Heartbeat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894366
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Ready to Go

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is influenced by Childish Gambino's song "Heartbeat" but with a different perspective, but if you've never heard it i highly highly recommend it, it's amazing and emotional  
> thanks for reading rare stenny shippers <3

It was an unspoken pact that Stan Marsh made with himself; past the age of fifteen, there is no staying inside the house on Saturday nights. Yet, he sat a boy of eighteen years-old staring at the ceiling in the quiet of his room with absolutely nothing to do but avoid his parents and sister, who were watching a movie downstairs. His best friend, Kyle, was too busy studying for an exam to humor him. He was bored out of his mind.

His mind wandered to individuals that _weren’t_ Kyle Broflovski. He recalled that Cartman was visiting his family for the weekend, so abusing his endless video game selection was out of the question—unless he used the extra key under their doormat, but that was just a little out of Stan’s window of acceptable creepiness. Perhaps Kenny would be free.

Stan’s cheeks involuntarily flushed at the mere thought of being with Kenny alone. The two would engage in _different_ kinds of activities when it was just to two of them. His conscience growled inside him, reminding him of his (barely) girlfriend, Wendy. It wasn’t as if Stan hadn’t done that to her before, but it was still wrong. And, he wasn’t even sure if Kenny would be willing.

He told himself that there’s no reason he and Kenny couldn’t behave platonically for one night. After he sent his blond friend a text he sat up and stood into his converse. It wasn’t until his coat was on as well that Kenny responded, saying that he was equally bored and completely available. With that confirmation Stan set off to Kenny’s home on the other side of the train tracks.

It always creeped Stan out to walk near Kenny’s house at night (or in general); it was a rat infested junkyard that was probably riddled with several various diseases. Not to mention the meth-heads that inhabited the guest house. Either loud R&B or aggressive conversations could be heard from the small space at all times. In addition, there was always some kind of unpleasant noise emitting from the McCormick household itself—more often than not, it was the family screaming at one another.

When Stan approached the shabby home Kenny was already outside. He sat on the porch with a sullen expression, sucking in smoke from a cigarette as his parents combating with creative obscenities began to give him a migraine. Flicking his honeyed brown eyes in Stan’s direction immediately made his spirits soar.

There were few things that truly cheered Kenny up throughout the years of surviving under his parent’s guardianship; porn was _not_ one of them, although he did engage. The thing that made him the happiest was his great friends, Stan and Kyle. They were the only real sense of safety and security he knew, (Cartman was bearable at times, but nobody ever really felt _safe_ and/or _secure_ in his presence).

“Stanley!” Kenny spouted.

Stan exaggerated his grin as he stood at the end of the short, dirt walkway. “Kenneth!”

Chuckling, Kenny pushed himself off the step and flipped the cigarette butt into the perpetual snow. He stashed his fingerless glove-clad hands into the pockets of his jean jacket. He met Stan at the edge of his lawn, who was looking pretty cute, he thought, with his thick black hair peeking out of a Broncos breakaway beanie and black, Carthartt coat adorning his torso.

Kenny had developed a crush on Stan many years ago, and that crush had developed into more complex feelings as time trekked on. He was utterly convinced nothing would happen. Even if Stan _wasn’t_ straight, why would the captain of the football team choose the poor kid over anyone else in the school, even if they had been close friends forever? He came to terms with that until one very bizarre night when they were fifteen. They were bored, horny, and very naïve. After that bridge was crossed, there were a dozen similar instances, but it had never lead to anything more. While this would cause complications to most friendships, it strangely brought the two boys closer. There was a higher element of trust inherited from their illicit midnight escapades in the bedroom. Kenny knew thoughts and feelings Stan experienced that not even Kyle was aware of.

While Kenny wouldn’t _mind_ having a consistent romantic relationship with Stan, he knew how difficult that would make Stan’s social life. Not only would the admittedly deserving negative backlash from Wendy Testaburger alone be enough to make Stan want to drive car off a bridge, but he was indisputably the most popular guy in school—there would be endless drama surrounding a homosexual scandal involving one of his best friends. Stan was too insecure to handle that kind of negative press, and for that reason, Kenny had been okay with these secret little rendezvous; however, lately his feelings were becoming far too strong to ignore. He had spent several nights lying awake with an uncomfortable aching in his chest at the knowledge that Stan was not actually _his_ , though he pushed those feelings away and did his best to enjoy their relationship for what it was.

“Where are we headed?” Kenny inquired, glancing between Stan and the beautiful full moon hanging in the sky above them.

Stan averted his eyes the three inches it took to meet Kenny’s light brown eyes. The dark-haired boy had always thought they were ridiculously beautiful and interesting. His irises were honey colored with a chocolate ring around his pupils. He also adored the tiny freckles speckled across his pale cheeks and the bridge of his button nose. Not to mention his breathtaking, wide smile that made deep dimples indent his cheeks and his sharp jawline. When Stan looked at Kenny he sometimes wondered what we could possibly see in Wendy. “Uh, I didn’t really give much thought to it. I just had to get out of my house.”

Kenny frowned. “Things okay?”

“Yeah,” Stan sighed, watching their feet skirt the concrete pavement and matching Kenny’s strides, which was slightly awkward with his short legs compared to Kenny’s long, thin ones. “I just can’t deal with my parents anymore, dude. Is it wrong of me to wish they’d just split up again?”

“Hell no, man. I wish that about mine of a daily fuckin’ basis,” Kenny scoffed in agreement, and then returned to the original topic. “Are they going at it again?”

“Not really… But, it’s like, they make these comments and you can tell it’s specifically to piss each other off. Like, dad’ll be like, ‘I miss when our meals were actually cooked at home’ or some shit when mom brings home take-out. Stupid little things like that, but it happens all the time and then they just sit on opposite sides of the couch and pout for the rest of the night.” Stan elaborated.

Kenny sighed. “That’s almost sounds worse than when they screamed bloody murder at each other.”

“Yeah, never thought I’d miss that. Oh, god,” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remember when they almost fucking killed each other when we had Craig and Clyde over?”

“Jesus Christ, dude, Clyde _cried_ over that.”

“Well, that doesn’t really say much. He cried over the new Star Wars movie.”

“Valid point,”

“When Craig is scared out of his mind is when you know your parents need to get a divorce.” Stan amended the argument with cynical humor in his tone.

“I honestly learned a few insults from that fight. What was it even about?” Kenny asked.

Stan gave him his famous _I’m-completely-done-with-the-world_ expression. “What brand our new microwave should be.”

Kenny stopped where he stood, staring open mouthed at his friend and wondering how such a levelheaded person was born from such ridiculous parents. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I really wish I wasn’t.”

“Holy shit, dude.” Kenny let himself laugh when Stan did, although neither really thought it was a funny situation. “They’re kinda terrible for each other.”

“You think?” Stan shook his head, eyes falling to the ground. “Dude, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my parents.”

“Yeah?” Kenny encouraged him to continue.

Blue eyes were full of that look people have when they don’t know what to feel. Kenny knew it all too well. When Stan’s explanation continued they had reached the playground/basketball court in their town. “Do you think me and Wendy are like them?”

Kenny chewed and swallowed the thought. It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. “What do you mean?”

Stan extrapolated, “I don’t know, I just feel like I’m my mom and she’s my dad. She’s always going off and doing some big thing, and she’s really smart and cool so it isn’t like the stupid shit my dad does, but I just feel like I don’t really care about any of it anymore. She said I was ‘starting to drag her down’ the other day,”

The boys claimed the swing-set after crossing the mulch path. They ended up there from time to time, casually swinging on the same ones they used to have competitions to see who could land the farthest after jumping off (Kenny was the reigning champion, of course, having always been fearless). It was sort of a halfway point where they would talk and then decide where to go from there. Kenny chose his words tactfully, “She is pretty… dramatic.”

“Dude, I know you hate her, don’t hold back.” Stan chuckled, hands wrapped around the chains that held the swing as he swayed back and forth.

Kenny matched the pace and grinned at his reply. “Nah, dude, I don’t hate her. Plus, I’m not gonna sit here and talk shit about your girl.”

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“She’s just into doing her own thing,” Kenny amended. He stowed his gaze to the stars and let that be all he said. He grew up learning to bite his tongue.

Stan peered over at Kenny and wished he’d say something more. He had this conversation on several occasions with Kyle, who never held back with his opinion about his dead-end relationship with his rival for valedictorian. He would say that Wendy could be overbearing and Stan could seem careless, and that overall they did not seem like a decent match, but he already knew that. He wanted _Kenny’s_ point of view, and what _Kenny_ would do, or how _Kenny_ feels about the way Wendy treats Stan and vice versa. He wanted Kenny to be as forthcoming about it as Kyle was.

He didn’t realize he was staring until Kenny’s unique voice drew him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

“What?” Stan leaned forward, eyes fluttering. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Kenny bit the inside of his cheek. “Are you thinking about breaking it off with Wendy?”

“Again,” Stan added with an indignant chuckle. “I dunno, man. I’m so mixed up about it. She’s the only, like, actual girlfriend I’ve ever had. There was Lola for like a month in the ninth grade, but I got right back with Wendy when that ended poorly.”

“Dude, I remember that shit. I still think it was Wendy who told her you were cheating on her.”

“It really wouldn’t surprise me at this point.” Stan sighed. He planted his feet on the ground and rested his elbows on his thighs, rubbing his face. He was exasperated with this whole _Stendy_ debacle. “I just—Y’know what? I don’t even want to think about it tonight. Can we just ban Wendy from the dialogue?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Kenny snorted, making Stan laugh along with him.

Stan leaned his head against the cold metal chain as he gaped at the other boy. He smiled. “How are you, Ken?”

That was a complicated question when it was geared towards Kenny McCormick. He was always an inexplicable combination of horribly depressed and empty and full of hope and readiness. There was never any black and white; it was always a hodgepodge of intense feelings. Instead of trying to convey that message, he would always say, “I’m grand.”

“No, really, dude. Are you okay?” Stan wanted to know desperately for some reason.

Kenny’s eyes fluttered to the shorter boy, sly smile tracing his lips. “I am now that I’m with you.”

It was an overused, cliché flirtation, really, but Stan blushed nonetheless. He rolled his eyes to disguise his giddiness. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“I’ve been told,” Kenny retorted humorously, burying his worn-out boots in the partially frozen mulch. He pitied the person responsible for clearing the snow off of the playground each week.

“You’re not actually stupid.” Stan said.

This obtained Kenny’s focus yet again. He trained his eyes on Stan’s handsome face, perplexed by his reply. Stan stared back and continued. “See, the fact that me saying you aren’t stupid confuses you makes me sad. Everyone calls you, like, white-trash and a dumb slut but they really don’t know you.”

“Welcome to South Park, man.” Kenny replied, unenthused.

“It pisses me off that people talk about you like that. You’ve always been nothing but here to listen to all my bitching my whole life and you’re actually one of the smartest people I know.”

Kenny cracked a smile. “Mind telling my report card that?”

Stan laughed and slapped his shoulder, and before Kenny could retaliate he hooked their arms. He tried to maintain his composure when he gazed at the blond. “I’m serious, dude! You’re really helpful and know so much more about life than anyone else. You come from such a horrible place, and you’re still so nice all the time. It’s impressive and encouraging and I just wish more people were like you. You’re just, like, amazing, I don’t know,”

He could feel his cheeks burning hotter as Stan rambled on. He grinned with his tongue between his teeth and stared right back into the deep blue that he grew up adoring. “Stop complimenting me.”

Stan was equally enveloped in happy daze being almost nose to nose with the other boy created. He would have let the fact that another _dude_ was giving him the tight, queasy, giddy feeling in the base of his stomach bother him, but he had surpassed that phase. He loved the sort of high he got from leaning in real close, brushing hands, entwining legs, touching cheeks, whispering—it was thrilling and dangerous feeling. And feeling anything was a whole lot more than Wendy could do for him anymore. “Why?” He questioned, pursing his lips and moving his gaze between both of Kenny’s brown eyes.

Kenny was bold and confident in his statement despite the knowledge of his friend’s complicated relationship status. He frankly didn’t care in the slightest, allowing his desperation to feel Stan’s lips against his commandeer his better judgement, “Because I’ll kiss you.”

Stan’s heartrate increased by those simple four words. He grinned, voice falling to a whisper, “What if that’s my goal?”

Kenny smirked. “Then keep being cute and calling me amazing.”

The other boy’s grin was wide and the loveliest Kenny had ever seen. Stan turned to jelly when it came to his unofficial fuck buddy, blushing and grinning endlessly. It was a nice juxtaposition to his behavior on a daily basis—disinterested, genuinely distressed, and confused. To both of the boys, being with one another just made _sense_.

“Kenny McCormick,” Stan said as if he were preparing for a soliloquy. “You are smart, and brave, and caring, and hilarious, and important, and hot as hell, and deserving of being told all of this a lot more often.”

Kenny’s heart swelled, the bittersweet love he felt for Stan washing over him. He said, “You forgot one.”

Stan hummed. “What is it?”

“Excellent dick sucker,”

“Ah, you’re right,” Stan nodded in agreement. “And perverted.”

They laughed a little, but not hard enough to break eye contact. When Kenny spoke his expression was serious. “Stan Marsh—you are talented, special, funny, strong, independent, charismatic, an amazing friend, and the hottest fucker in South Park. Probably the world, too. And also an excellent dick sucker,”

Stan puffed out a small giggle. He lifted his hand to gingerly push a stray bang from Kenny’s light eyes. The blond smiled at the gesture and continued. “I really wish you’d believe me when I say that stuff. Because I swear, if I were you, my ego would be way out of hand.”

The boy with blue eyes gave the other another one of his rare, genuine smiles. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“I know.” Kenny assured him.

“You’re my best friend and you’re just so nice to me and you’re so kind and caring and it just—“

Kenny interrupted Stan’s flattering rant by closing the gradually decreasing distance between their lips. It didn’t matter how many times Kenny kissed him, each time felt like the first. His lips tasted like tobacco and strawberry ChapStick. They were soft and pressed against Stan’s so gently, like he was some kind of precious cargo that had to be handled delicately.

Stan’s fingers curling around the nape of Kenny’s neck made him weak at the knees. He slowly slid his lips against Stan’s thin, pretty pink ones and savored every second. While Kenny didn’t live up to volume of his rumored prostitute status, he had kissed a few girls and one other boy before—and nobody felt as good as Stan. Kissing Stan was better than words, or relationships, or _boobs_. It was a sweet term of endearment, and he really knew how to move his mouth and tongue precisely in sync with the Kenny’s.

Moments later and lips swollen from repetitive kissing, they mutually withdrew from one another and gave themselves some time to catch their breaths. Kenny lifted his eyelids to find Stan already staring, the blue color of his irises almost completely commandeered by his dilated pupils. Stan was chewing his bottom lip and his pale cheeks were tinged with blush. Kenny wondered why he had to be so fucking cute.

“You know what irrational fear I have about making out outside of our bedrooms?” Stan said.

“No clue.” Kenny admitted, perking his head slightly as he gaped at the other boy to signify his interest.

“That Cartman’s creeping in the bushes or something with a fucking camera.”

Kenny laughed a little, “Dude, that’s not irrational. I wouldn’t put that anywhere past Cartman.”

“That’s why it freaks me out a little!”

“As he should,” Kenny’s voice strained a bit as he stood.

Stan pouted his bottom lip. “Don’t leave.”

“Well, you’re obviously coming with me. I want Taco Bell.”

Stan groaned in protest. Kenny smirked, leaning over and grasping Stan’s gloved hands in his own. He tugged Stan upright despite the complications the black-haired boy caused by going limp. Kenny laughed, “C’mon, dude! I got five whole dollars to spend. This will be a proper cheating on your girlfriend date.”

Stan frowned at that statement, but agreed. “I could go for a taco.”

Their steps fell in sync involuntarily this time as their feet carried them across the basketball court and on. Their casual conversation was distracted by the subtle bumping of shoulders and hands. They longed to be intertwined, but they weren’t ten anymore, and it would be harder to explain why two bros were holding hands. When they made it to Taco Bell and began chowing down Kenny was stricken with a brilliant idea.

“Dude.” He said, brown eyes widening.

“Dude.” Stan matched his tone with a mouthful of chilito.

Kenny leaned his elbows on the table, “You know that creepy, old abandoned house right outside of town?”

Stan’s expression fell as soon as he caught on. “No.”

“Yes! We should totally check it out!”

Stan pinched his nose, “God, no, no, no, I do _not_ want to get arrested.”

“C’mon, Stan, don’t be a pussy!”

He looked at Kenny quickly with a bewildered expression. “How does not wanting to get arrested make me a pussy?!”

“It’s only illegal if we get caught.” Kenny reasoned, attempting to be serious but smiling anyway.

“That is a horrible philosophy for life and you’re going to go to jail if you follow it.”

Kenny groaned, kicking his feet against the carpeted floor of the restaurant like a child. “It’ll kick ass, c’mon! Please?” He gave Stan a puppy dog expression.

Stan cocked an eyebrow. “That stopped working when you were like, eight.”

Kenny pouted his lip. “Are you saying I’m not cute anymore?”

Stan rolled his eyes and grinned despite himself. Of course Kenny was cute. He was the cutest person Stan could even think of. “Shut up. Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Woohoo!” Kenny cheered, pumping his fists in the air.

Stan laughed and shook his head. “If we get caught I’m saying you kidnapped me.”

“Fair enough,” Kenny agreed as he stood, then swooped down to whisper with his lips pressed to Stan’s ear. “And if we don’t, I’ll suck your dick.”

Stan swallowed the lump that caused in his throat as his wide eyes followed Kenny to the trash bin. _That_ was an offer he couldn’t refuse. He lifted himself from the metal chair and shadowed his friend, eventually exiting the establishment and once again meeting the frosty Colorado weather.

Reaching the edge of town from Taco Bell took a little under a half-hour. On the way the boys engaged in a snow ball fight and a philosophical discussion about why kids these days shouldn’t be so glued to their iPhones. When they passed the old, wooden sign that read ‘South Park’ in bold letters Stan began to feel trepidation. He knew the abandoned house was only a short walk away.

“Ken, what if we get caught?” Stan asked absentmindedly.

Kenny glanced over at his friend, smirking slightly. “Why are you acting like Kyle about this?”

Stan cracked a smile. “Just to fill the gap.”

Kenny chuckled and draped an arm around Stan’s shoulders. When the infamous dilapidated home came into view the blond began to plan ways of breaking in. If it were just himself, he wouldn’t worry about his skin being scrapped by a window’s broken glass, but he felt the instinctive need to preserve the purity of Stan’s pallor skin, so another route was necessary.

“Have you broken into this place before?” The shorter boy inquired as he watched the taller scan his brown eyes along the building.

“Once, with Kevin. Only I didn’t know it was a drug-deal.” He scoffed indignantly.

Stan frowned and patted Kenny’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

Kenny shrugged, giving Stan that charming grin. “Don’t be. C’mon, we’ll see if the back door is break-in-able.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow, following Kenny over the short fence. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’ll either be open, easy to kick down, or easy to pick.”

“Pick?! Like, the lock?”

“Yeah, man,” Kenny smirked at Stan when they had reached the backside of the shabby, old house. The white paint had spent several years corroding off the wood of the door and mold had squeezed itself between the particles. Weathering had turned the once brilliant white shingles to a nearly beige dingy color. The condition didn’t faze Kenny, considering the state of the home he had resided in his entire existence, but Stan was off put. “Craig got _really_ into it when we played _Games of Thrones_. He taught me how to pick locks. He was a little too proud of being a thief,”

Stan laughed, “Alright, fairest maiden in the land.”

“Hey, I make a hot chick.” Kenny assured, jiggling the door-knob.

Stan grinned as he watched Kenny struggle with the entryway to the uninhibited home. “That’s when I first knew I was attracted to you.”

“Fuck off,” Kenny laughed, not looking up from his mission. When the blond decided the door couldn’t be compromised with his bare hands, he plunged his hand into his cargo pants to retrieve his pocket-knife. The item was always on his person, partially an extension of the redneck culture he grew up in and for protection. Kenny truly loved his father, but a rare instance of alcohol induced rage left his little sister with a hand-shaped bruise around her arm and a black eye for himself. His paranoia led him to take such precautions. The nail-file attachment on the knife also came in handy for lock-picking purposes—which wasn’t as prudent. He worked the lock the way he had learned from the Tucker kid until the rusty hinge clicked and they were in.

“Dude, kick ass!” Stan exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

Kenny grinned with pride then pushed himself off the ground with a grunt. “I still got it.”

They entered building with virtually nonexistent lighting and Stan’s expression immediately fell to a nervous one. His vaguely trembling fingertips dug into the front pocket of his jeans and worked to retrieve his cell-phone. He freed it from the denim, but it fell with a thud against the floor when the door slammed shut suddenly. Stan let out a small gasp as he leapt from his skin. Wide blue eyes landed on the cackling Kenny, which allowed them to become angry instead. Stan growled, leaning down to scoop up the iPhone, and then he threw a punch at Kenny’s shoulder, “Asshole! Don’t do that!”

Kenny winced slightly at the beam of bright light that emitted from Stan’s cellular device, still laughing. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. C’mon, this place is actually really cool. I think it’s historic or some shit.”

Stan really couldn’t believe he was blindly following this idiot through a broken-down shack with dripping ceilings and peeling wallpaper. The floorboards creaked underneath their weight and the lack of illumination sufficiently freaked Stan out. He whined, “We should have at least brought an actual flashlight or some shit, dude.”

“They’re might be something like that around here. I think the living room is this way.” Kenny replied, speeding up his pace and reaching an adjacent room. He was proved wrong by entering what appeared to be a furniture-less dining room. Stan was soon behind, putting the light on the room to reveal nothing more than a broken wooden chair and a crusted chandelier. He gave his friend an incredulous look. “I’m pretty much okay with you sucking my dick anywhere, but this place doesn’t exactly put me in the mood.”

Kenny snorted. “It’s cool, Stanley. I’m trying to find the room that the owners left a piano in. It still worked! I mean, it’s really out of tune, but hey.”

They headed through the corridor and Stan intuitively clung to Kenny, darting his eyes to whatever section of the house that he could see with the small amount of light his phone provided. Kenny smirked to himself and found Stan’s large hand, capturing it in his and lacing their fingers. This made Stan blush a little, but he was too busy making sure a ghost wasn’t going to swoop down and murder them. “Alright!” Kenny spoke happily after they wandered into a more open room on the opposite end of the home from where they entered. “Point it over there.”

“There?” Stan requested confirmation, and then shifted his arm to shine his phone on the dusty grand piano in the corner of the surprisingly pretty room. “Oh, nice,”

“Told you,” Kenny replied as he sauntered over to the ancient instrument. He pressed his finger against the lowest key, creating a deep and slightly unpleasant noise to erupt from the creaking insides.

“Less nice,” Stan laughed.

Kenny rolled his eyes, turning to face the raven-haired boy again. “There’s no impressing you, is there?” His hands found the strings of Stan’s hooded jacket and drew him closer. Stan obliged, and snaked his arms around the blond’s waist when he was close enough.

“Nope.” Stan retorted. “You know what else pisses me off?”

“A few things come to mind.”

Stan stood on his tip-toes to stare directly into the eyes that he could almost see now that his own had adjusted to the blackness. “You being taller than me.”

Kenny pouted a lip. “Awe, is someone’s masculinity fragile?” 

“Shut up, no. I just hate having short legs.”

“I think it’s cute.” Kenny attempted to make him feel better about what he’d always been insecure about (among many more attributes). “Plus, I’m, like, six-one.”

“I’m only five-nine. Way too short for a quarterback,” Stan groaned.

“Hey, that’s only two inches shorter than Russell Wilson,” Kenny let out a short laugh when Stan groaned at the comparison. He leaned into closer to the shorter boy’s face, their lips finding each other’s again. They stayed that way for a few seconds before Kenny pulled back to whisper, “You know you like your men tall.”

“It’s pretty hot.” Stan said in almost a gasp. He willed Kenny to be nearer to him by pulling on his hips and parting his lips. Kenny’s heart fluttered even more intensely, hands leaving the strings behind and cupping Stan’s soft cheeks as their tongues joined the kiss. Stan desperately swirled his tongue against Kenny’s as if he had never felt anything like this before—and perhaps he hadn’t. Either way, he didn’t want it to end for a very long time, and Kenny returned those feelings.

“Are we really gonna do this here?” Stan whispered breathily after withdrawing from a heated make-out session.

Kenny forced his lungs to retain the oxygen they needed before he replied. “Only if you give me affirmative consent,”

“Oh, my god.” Stan chuckled, and then spoke with mock solemnity. “You may touch my penis at this time.”

He barely finished the sentence before Kenny’s tongue was crammed into his mouth again. Stan was pressed against the wall, uncaring of its sanitary condition at this point. He let Kenny between his legs and he pushed off the cold, denim jacket that was separating his fingers from his soft skin. Stan traced his hand along the curve of Kenny’s vaguely prominent biceps, his mind unconsciously comparing them to how a girl’s felt. Girls in general were softer and possessed less rough edges, but something about that seemed unappealing when Kenny’s slightly scrawny, curve-free body was pressed against his.

Kenny left a sticky trail of hot kisses all down Stan’s neck, careful not to leave any marks. Remembering where Stan was most sensitive, he moved his mouth to the spot just beneath his ear, causing his friend to shutter. Kenny grinned, then repeated the action and simultaneously removed Stan’s black jacket.

Their t-shirts were soon to join the small pile that their coats had started on the hard-wood floor. Both boys had earned a problem in their pants and weren’t shy about it. Kenny pressed his hardened crotch against Stan’s and began grinding, the sensation sending pleasured chills through their bodies despite the denim separating them.

A spark of confidence was ignited somewhere within Stan. Perhaps it was the acuteness of the situation, or the creepy house, being so close to Kenny, or all at once. He caught Kenny’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at it, pleased to hear a soft moan crawl out of his throat. Withdrawing from the kiss, Stan pried Kenny off of him. Before the blond could assume that they were finished, he condemned him against the drywall and commandeered his former position of dominance. 

A combination of arousal and shock widened Kenny’s brown eyes. They watched as Stan expertly unbuckled his belt, and then in one swift motion yanked it from his waist. His eyelids fluttered and his voice let out another moan of pleasure when Stan pressed his lips to his collarbone. While nursing a love-bit, Stan’s cold fingertips sent an electrifying sensation throughout his body as they dragged across his bare stomach. His other hand joined when the first reached the waistband of Kenny’s underwear that was now exposed due to the lack of belt holding his tan pants. Stan slid his index fingers between Kenny’s hips and the elastic.

Kenny was afraid his chest was unequipped to contain the organ throbbing intermittently in his rib-cage. He made himself a bit dizzy when he tossed his head back against the wall harshly. He didn’t even notice the trivial pain in the crown of his head because Stan’s mouth was slowly migrating from his neck to his waist, lowering himself to his knees when he reached the destination.

Stan was perhaps a bit too satisfied with the effect he seemed to have on the other boy. He granted himself a few precious moments to observe Kenny’s beautiful reaction: his square two-front teeth tugging his bottom lip, head tilted back, and eyes clamped shut. Although he couldn’t tell, he imagined deliciously rosy cheeks. He soon returned to the task at hand and leisurely removed the pants and boxers that now struggled to contain him.

Kenny maintained his composure although he could scream at how bad he wanted to feel Stan’s mouth around him. One fist balled at his side while the other caught a handful of Stan’s dark hair. He thrust his waist forward slightly, simplifying Stan’s mission of slipping his pants down his thighs. His underpants were soon to follow, the initially exposure to the chilly environment making him shiver.

Stan tested the temperature of his hand by pressing it to his cheek. Satisfied by its somewhat warmth, he edged closer to Kenny, wide eyes admiring him. The blond let out a groan when Stan’s hand was around his dick. His jaw slacked, head spinning with the all-pervading sensation. Stan began pumping the hand along Kenny’s length while the other gained leverage by grasping his thigh.

“Fuck,” Kenny cursed under his breath. He allowed the feeling of Stan’s hand against him draw him away from reality. He was in a quaint apartment and more specifically, a king-sized mattress where the sheets smelled like Stan. They were in a completely stress-free and uncomplicated relationship where nothing mattered but how good they made each other feel—physically and emotionally.

The blond was nervous that he would come completely undone already when he felt warm moisture sliding along his dick. His brown gaze ceased hiding behind eyelids and watched Stan’s beautiful lips part around him, slowly but surely taking in the majority of him. What was neglected by the hotness of his mouth was still in Stan’s hand. He bobbed his head and hallowed his cheeks. Kenny could cry at how _good_ it felt.

Stan’s bright blue eyes locked in a stare with brown, gleaming with expectancy. Kenny’s fingers pulling the ends of his hair, face contorting in the almost painful amount of pleasure he was receiving. “Shit, Stan.”

Stan hummed against Kenny. He enjoyed the way Kenny’s husky voice released his name. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue. To hear it again, he sped up his actions, pumping faster and sucking harder—careful to avoid using teeth.

“Stan,” Kenny groaned, flattening is palm against the wall and throwing his head back. Everything inside him seemed to switch into overdrive. His knees buckled and his hips shook. “I’m… Fuck, Stan, I’m gonna…”

Moans interrupted him, but Stan got the memo and was prepared. In the past he had made pathetic attempts to swallow when Kenny released himself, but he was cocky this time. He was eager to prove himself superior at this for some reason, and when his chance came (literally), he took a confident gulp. His throat attempted to reject it but Stan won the battled and swallowed like a champ. Kenny let out a relieved sigh and flattened against the wall. Stan smirked to himself and gingerly lifted the fabric of his underwear over his dick.

He pressed himself against Kenny again and brought his hand to his lips, licking a drop of semen from his finger while staring straight into his eyes. “You taste good.” He commented nonchalantly. Kenny was pleasantly baffled by Stan’s behavior.

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Kenny breathed, a small chuckle following. “I dunno what’s up with you but I’m totally into it.”

Stan smiled smugly. “What, a teenage dude can’t be horny?”

Kenny lost his ability to speak when Stan kissed him again, open mouthed and quickly before Stan broke the contact again. “Of course he can, but they usually take it out on their girlfriends.”

Stan shrugged, “You’ve been watching the boring movies if you think that. It’s always the best friend.”

“Lucky me,” Kenny guessed, encircling Stan’s waist in his arms and coaxing him closer. An enticing, chilling feeling took them over at the contact of their bare chests.

“Ken?” Stan addressed the blond in a questioning tone in between desperate kisses. Kenny hummed in acknowledgement, stealing a few more chaste kisses before letting Stan continue. “What do you really think about me and Wendy?”

If Kenny’s eyes were open, he would have rolled them. “I thought we banned her from the dialogue.”

Stan sighed softly, the fact that Kenny wished to not speak of her exciting him in some odd way. “I know… I just want you to tell me… You always hold back.”

“Who cares what I think?” Kenny reasoned, not trying to invite Stan to his pity-party, but doing so anyways.

Stan planted his hands on Kenny’s shoulders and dipped himself backwards slightly. His expression was perplexed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

A slight panic fluttered within Kenny, not wanting to spark controversy (or end the intimacy). “I just… I dunno, you have Kyle to give you advice and shit, you don’t really need my input.”

Stan frowned, leaning up and brushing his nose against Kenny’s. “You’re so ignorant, Kenny. All I want is your opinion. Your approval. Your input.”

“Really?” Kenny tried not to scoff. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Did sucking your dick prove nothing?”

Kenny shrugged, eyes darting anywhere but Stan’s. “I guess.”

“C’mon, McCormick.” Stan groaned. “You don’t have to be the quiet kid with me.”

“You really want to know what I think? Really?” Kenny retorted, his voice laced with what Stan couldn’t discern—anger, maybe passion, but definitely something powerful.

Stan swallowed, not so sure of himself anymore, but still determined to inveigle a reaction out of his friend. His heartrate sped up again when Kenny claimed dominance yet again by tightening his grip on Stan’s waist and spinning them again. Stan let out a huff when his back met the wall again, eyes enlarged by the fierce expression Kenny’s handsome features held. He flattened his palms against the wall beside Stan’s head.

“I fucking hate Wendy.” He began. It already felt freeing to push the since contained information from his shoulders. “I hate her because she’s pretty and smart and popular and she has gotten to be with you for fuckin’ years. Half the time she’s kinda a fuckin’ bitch to you.”

Stan held his breath, equally caught off guard and turned on by Kenny’s harsh honesty and vulgarity. Short, uneven breaths spilled from his mouth as he stared at the blond, unsure if he was finished explaining or not. He moaned softly when Kenny crashed his lips against his again, kissing with a fever he hadn’t known from anyone. It was intoxicating, and he strained to reciprocate the penetrating emotions before Kenny drew back to continue his rant.

“You haven’t been happy since the fourth grade for a lot of reasons, but she’s a main one. I don’t know why the fuck you guys stay together when you both know it doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense.”

Another passion-filled kiss removed the air from Stan’s lungs, and his legs turned to gelatin when Kenny’s firm hand cupped his erection. Kenny’s full lips pulled back yet again to say, “If I have to sit through one more fight of your’s, one more homecoming or prom or anniversary, one more kiss or hug, I’m going to lose my fuckin’ mind,”

Stan whimpered as Kenny began mercilessly palming him. He was growing even hotter by the reaction he pulled from Kenny—which was something he’d wanted for a while then. He spread his legs to provide easier access to his desperate cock.

“It isn’t fair,” Kenny’s hot breath danced down Stan’s neck. He moved his hand from Stan’s crotch then used both to tug his jeans down. “That she gets to call you her’s.”

“Wh-Why?” Stan questioned, winded and woozy.

Kenny was suddenly speechless again—but this time with bemusement and anger. _Why?_ Shouldn’t Stan know? Was it not completely obvious? He scoffed, shaking his head then training his stare back at Stan. “Because _I_ —“ He interrupted himself before he made the mistake. The three words he longed to tell Stan seriously were on the tip of his tongue and it would be so simple to just let them out. He wished everything he wanted to say would automatically flow eloquently from his mouth and he and his prince would live happily ever after. But, this was no fairy tale. It was South Park. Kenny sighed, finding a different statement to expel. “I just want you to be happy.”

Kenny reeling into Stan’s ear again, distracting from his true feelings by whispering, “And you know I’m better at giving head,”

On that note, Kenny went down on Stan and returned the favor. Stan wept in pleasure, clawing at his own cheeks as Kenny’s mouth performed oral magic better admittedly much better than Wendy had barely done. Stan wanted to see the perfect boy’s lips around him, but he was so overwhelmed with the amazing sensation that his head was seemingly glued to the wall. He involuntarily swayed his hips in pace with Kenny’s mouth, and when he came undone, Kenny easily swallowed as he had.

As soon as Kenny detached himself from Stan and wiggled his underpants back in place he was met by Stan’s desperate embrace. Stan didn’t care that he could taste himself when his tongue rubbed against Kenny’s—he just needed to kiss him. He needed to show Kenny how much he appreciated that he cared, he needed to encourage Kenny to speak out against his relationship with Wendy more. He was drunk on the words Kenny spewed about her and wanted to hear more. Maybe it was to convince himself or something he already knew; maybe he just received a certain sense of twisted pleasure from hearing Kenny say it. Anyway it went, he needed Kenny all around him and pressed against him in that moment more than he ever had.

Kenny was equally frantic, kissing every millimeter of Stan’s mouth as if this was his last chance to do so. Although the two had predicted the situation to gain more gravity, it remained as such—desperately making out and running their hands along one another’s shoulders and torso. Their drive gradually fell, and soon Stan was crying and Kenny was holding him tightly. They took a seat on the ground, using the coat and jacket to block them from the cold ground. Stan’s fit but still smaller body was cradled into Kenny’s care. His head was tucked against his chest and Kenny’s fingers traced his hair until the waterworks stopped.

Stan sniffled, remaining in the same position. It had been a long time since he allowed himself to cry. He really needed to just sob. He also really needed to be held by someone who genuinely cared. He clung to his protector and clamped his watery, sapphire eyes shut. Kenny pressed multiple kisses to his hair.

It was a good ten minutes before Stan found his voice. It shook, betraying its owner, but Kenny didn’t mind. “C-Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

Stan used the back of his hand to control his runny nose. He let out a long exhale, “What if I wanted to be gay?”

Kenny wasn’t really prepared to answer that kind of question. He fielded it the best he could anyways, for his friend’s sake. “Then you’d be gay. I’d obviously support you.”

Stan chuckled softly, slapping Kenny’s chest playfully. His grin faltered, his next question coming out in an even smaller voice. “Would you date me?”

Kenny’s breath hitched. _In a heartbeat_ , he thought. “Are you asking me out, or asking if I would?”

“I don’t know.”

The blond let out a puff of air and trailed his gaze to the top of Stan’s head. His black mop was disheveled, the messy tuffs fighting over where they were to fall. He shut his eyes and kissed them again. When he spoke, his tone wavered. “Personally, I think what would be best for you is if you took a break from romantic relationships. You just need to really think about what makes you happy.”

Stan was silent for a minute, turning this over in his mind. Perhaps Kenny was right, but it didn’t take much time to decide. As soon as he shut his eyes the source of his genuine happiness flashed through his brain like snapshots on a Polaroid—memories of Kenny.

The first time Kenny got intoxicated at the age of thirteen was one of them; he vomited for four minutes straight, cried about his family life, then fell asleep cuddling Stan like a koala bear. Their first kiss, and all its uncomfortable yet relieving feelings. Stan and Wendy had broken up a day or so prior and they were both curious. It was clumsy and awkward and they were fifteen, but it was them and they loved it. Kenny’s smile, Kenny’s laugh, Kenny’s voice, Kenny’s serious expressions, Kenny’s sleeping face, Kenny’s _existence_ ; that’s what made Stan truly happy. And as he lay in the abandoned house just outside South Park’s borders pressed up against Kenny’s bare chest, he knew.

He grinned. “Yeah. You’re right, Ken.” The topic died for that night, but Stan knew it wasn’t the end of them.

Kenny fought back his own wave of tears as the two sat in silence, realizing after the passionate encounter that he could no longer torture himself like this, and made plans to distance himself from the love of his life after what he decided would be their final late-night affair. 


End file.
